


No Hope in Solitude

by tomato_greens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomato_greens/pseuds/tomato_greens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, Lydia’s fucking around on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hope in Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this happened. Originally on [tumblr](http://tomato-greens.tumblr.com/post/47901342538/helenish-teenwolf-if-you-need-dylan-hell).

Stiles remembers being Scott’s friend, but he can’t figure out why they ever talked in the first place. Dude hangs out with Derek Hale now, wheezing, probably, while Derek rattles the books in his locker and makes cow eyes at anyone who’ll stand still enough. Scott’s a loser but Derek’s even worse; he could probably be hot if he tried. His cousin Peter was pretty cool, but he’s old enough to be in college now and only comes by during holidays to skulk around and smoke cigarettes on school property. Anyway, it doesn’t matter: Stiles has a girlfriend. 

-

Of course, Lydia’s fucking around on him.

It’s okay because he fucks around on her, too––they’re both too beautiful not to take advantage of the opportunities presented to them. They haven’t talked about it, but it’s not like they don’t know: she’ll come back to him with a new, conspicuous hickey, smelling like Jackson’s cologne, and then they’ll fuck savagely against the wall or over a table or sometimes in the shower, Lydia’s voice hitching out of her in whimpering increments and her fingers scrabbling against the tile. 

So there’s always that.

-

Around Thanksgiving Stiles brings Peter a six pack for old time’s sake.

“What the fuck is this, Stilinski? You sweet on me?” Peter asks, fishing a new smoke out of his pack and sucking on it, hard.

“Sure,” Stiles says easily, “call it a goddamn courting gift if you want.” 

Of course they end up fucking. That’s what beautiful people do. Peter slicks a hot finger up into Stiles while he’s sucking him off, which Stiles hasn’t done before––not like this, not without tasting the strawberry trace of Lydia’s lip gloss, not with a guy’s bulk pressing into him––and which sends him spiraling up into a hot electric frisson of an orgasm. “Fuck _me_ ,” he gasps.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Peter says, which wasn’t what Stiles meant, but he lets it happen anyway.

-

Derek’s dating Kate Argent, which Stiles totally didn’t see coming––Kate is hot and mean and a little older than the rest of the senior class because she moved around a lot when she was younger. They kiss in empty classrooms and in front of Derek’s locker and behind the bleachers. Talk about a fucking cliché. 

Scott starts hanging around Allison Argent after that. Stiles figures Scott’s got a boner for Derek, so he’s making do with a second-rate Kate; Allison doesn’t have Kate’s curves or her sense of humor or, Stiles assumes, her excellent blowjob technique, but he guesses she seems nice enough. 

-

Stiles and Lydia finally talk about it, so the next time Peter comes home, right before Christmas, Lydia joins them.

“No, no, just to watch,” she says when Peter tries to beckon her over. “I make it a policy never to have more than one penis in my bed at a time unless some of them are plastic.”

Peter chuckles and draws Stiles to him, pinching into his shoulder with his weirdly long nails. “Yeah, I respect that.”

Lydia does come over, eventually, although she doesn’t touch Peter, whose dick is stuffed down Stiles’s throat anyhow. She’s got three fingers buried in Stiles and her other hand working between her legs. Stiles stiffens and comes when she leans down and bites him, low on the spine. Peter makes a choking noise and comes a couple seconds later, clutching at Stiles’s hair.

“No, no, don’t touch me,” Lydia insists when Peter tries to help her out. “I’ve got this.” So Peter draws Stiles into him, almost like a caress except for the sharp white lines he’s drawing into Stiles’s skin with this nails, and they watch as the flush slowly spreads from Lydia’s hairline to her breasts, as she keens.

“Next time I’ll bring a strap-on,” she says once it’s over. 

-

Lydia breaks up with him the day after Christmas. “It’s not like you’re not hot,” she says. “But Jackson’s needy and you’ve got Peter.”

“Dude, I don’t have Peter,” Stiles argues.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger,” Lydia gleefully points out. Stiles grabs at her hair, Lydia claws one sharp nail down his neck hard enough to draw blood, and it devolves into another orgasm each. 

“Fine, okay,” Stiles agrees. “You still want to fuck us, though, right?”

“Obviously,” she says.

-

Peter doesn’t like anything in his ass besides Stiles’s tongue, which isn’t Stiles favorite thing, either, so they save it for special occasions, like tonight, when Peter brought Stiles home to meet the whole gigantic family.

“Not that we’re dating,” Peter says. “They’re just getting suspicious. They can––tell there’s someone.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, whatever,” he says. “Dinner was good. Your aunt’s pretty hot. Kate was nicer than I thought she was going to be. I don’t mind.”

”Yeah,” Peter grumbles, “I hate Kate fucking Argent, I can’t believe they’re letting her sleep over just because it’s too dark to drive, don’t bring her up again––”

“Or what?” Stiles asks, grinning. “What are you gonna do to me?” There’s something warm suffusing his chest, like maybe Stiles would bring Peter home to meet his dad, like maybe in another universe Stiles could bring Peter home to meet his mom. But that’s an ache Stiles dealt with a long time ago, years now, when he still liked Scott and fantasy novels and getting smiley stickers on his fucking A+ tests, what a joke, so he ignores it and hits Peter’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Or fucking what?”

“I will burn you alive,” Peter growls, sucks a hickey onto Stiles’s throat.


End file.
